


No One Does Pizza Like Rico's

by Jathis



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fibro Cecil, Native American Cecil, POCecil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I like to think that Cecil was/is always nice to the interns at the radio station.<br/>This is set obviously before most of them started to die and Apache Tracker turned into a Native American</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Does Pizza Like Rico's

“You didn’t have to do this, Mr. Palmer!” Vithya said.

Cecil chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. Today had started out less than perfect for him. His hips had been too stiff and sore for him to use his cane and he had been forced to go straight to his wheelchair for the day. The interns at the station were attentive to Cecil’s needs and they did their best to ensure he was comfortable.

It was because of this and his finding out that several of them had not yet gone to Big Rico’s that week, (a very serious misdemeanor), that Cecil offered to treat them all to a slice or two. It was only fair after all, since they weren’t paid and it would be really hard to get work done if all the interns were arrested. It just made sense.

“Do you think they’ll ever send anybody to check that pit in the break room?”

“Maybe they’ll send you, Jesús!”

“Pfft what do I care? I’m not afraid of some weird black pit!”

“Well neither am I!”

“You screamed when you saw the cat in the bathroom!”

“IT WAS SCARY!”

Dana laughed and Cecil looked over at her with a knowing smile. “Leland and Jesús?”

“Always!”

“I’m going up the curb, Mr. Palmer!” Jeremy warned, tightening his grip on the handles before tilting Cecil’s chair back.

Cecil hissed and quickly grabbed his arm rests as he was jostled around. “Careful! You don’t need to do that!” he warned. He relaxed a little when Jeremy set his chair down, letting out a sigh of relief. “Jeremy…”

“Hey look! That weird racist guy is doing some weird dance in front of Big Rico’s!” Maureen said, pointing it out.

“Uh oh…” Dana muttered. She looked over at Cecil and sighed when she saw the look on his face. Calmly she looked around and she picked up a few rocks and held them out to him. “Here you are, Cecil!”

He smiled wickedly and nodded as he took them from her. “Jeremy, roll me closer to that asshole!” he demanded, hunching forward a little.

The interns all shared a look between each other. Everyone knew how much Cecil hated the Apache Tracker. He had a right to of course; the Apache Tracker was the biggest racist embarrassment in all of Night Vale! They just hoped Cecil didn’t get them all arrested and sent to the abandoned mine shaft.

Cecil narrowed his eyes as he watched the Apache Tracker hop around in front of Big Rico’s, chanting and flapping his arms around. He had bells and feathers tied around his wrists and ankles, the bells jingling loudly as he hopped around in a circle, chanting in some made-up language and trying to pass it off as anything resembling any language an actual Native American would ever speak.

He wanted to choke him to death with his stupid headdress. He wanted to rip those stupid disguises off of his body and shove them one by one down his throat. His hands were clenched into tight trembling fists and he cursed under his breath as he hurled one of the rocks, striking the Apache Tracker in the shoulder. “GET OUT OF HERE, ASSHOLE!” he screamed.

“Mr. Palmer, don’t stress yourself too much…” Vithya softly warned.

The Apache Tracker whirled around to look at Cecil indignantly, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m trying to perform an ancient Indian cleansing ritual!  _You_  should understand this more than anyone else!” the white man in the costume insisted.

This only made Cecil angrier and he was soon hurling the rest of the rocks at him, cursing and screaming furiously, aiming all of them at the Apache Tracker’s face now. “My people are NOT a fucking costume, you asshole!”

“…I didn’t think he could run that fast,” Brad noted, cocking an eyebrow as he watched the Apache Tracker run away in fear, chased off by one last rock that managed to knock his fake headdress off.

“…Asshole,” Cecil muttered.

Dana reached down and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as she asked, “you okay, Cecil?”

He snorted and idly reached up to fix his disheveled ponytail, nodding his head. “I’m fine…let’s go get that pizza before the secret police start rounding you guys up.”

Rob laughed nervously at that, “great joke, Mr. Palmer!” He frowned a little when no one else laughed with him and he looked around at the others as they all headed inside. “He  _is_  joking about being rounded up…right?”


End file.
